A soldier's heart
by MeredithvL
Summary: There's only so much fight in a person. Commander Shepard is exhausted after the war with the Reapers, but she wants to rebuild the unshakable confidence she once had. She wants to live, and love. This story takes place after the ending of Mass Effect 3, before the Extended Cut was out. Rated M for language and adult situations, no smut. Reviews are greatly appreciated!
1. Chapter 1: Reluctant patient

**Disclaimer**: I do not own or have any rights to representation of Bioware, EA Games and any other mass media trademarks within this fiction. Characters belong to Bioware. All is represented within the context of private entertainment.

**Notes**: This story takes place after Mass Effect 3 original ending, before the Extended Cut was released (it contains obvious SPOILERS) but it also expands Commander Shepard's past. A few things happened "off camera" to Shepard during the story arch of ME1, ME2 and ME3, but nothing in the story arch is changed. For post ME3 I'm going with the Indoctrination Theory, sort of anyway. Mass relays are broken but not vaporized.

I'll update whenever inspiration strikes. The main character in this story is Melody Shepard (the same character as in my story **Symphony of grief and hope**) but here I will focus on her personal life, the way she deals will all she had to live through, and her relationship with Garrus Vakarian. There's no need to read the other story to understand this one.

English is not my first language, I try my best but if you spot grammatical errors please let me know. Also, reviews are greatly appreciated!

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Chapter 1: Reluctant patient

Melody Shepard arrived at doctor Dunard's office on time, but she stood in front of the door for a while, apprehensive to announce herself. She had never been on psychotherapy, and she still didn't think she needed it, but she had promised her mother, over a quantum entanglement communicator device, she'd seek help. She couldn't sleep well, and when she did she had awful nightmares. She couldn't take time for herself, she needed to keep moving. She had spent five months in a coma and she needed to get things done. Something. Anything.

She hadn't made it to the Conduit. She had had the strangest hallucination. It had been Anderson who made it up to the Citadel and destroyed the Reapers. On the bright side, EDI and the Geth were alive, she hadn't been forced to commit genocide on an entire race other than in dreams. Dreams were one of the reasons why she was there.

Doctor Chakwas had given her Dunard's address, and told her to announce herself as Lt. Helen Gardson, to avoid questions from the secretary and keep discretion.

She startled a little when the door opened. A man in his mid-twenties, with brown eyes and hair, stood in front of her. He smiled warmly. He didn't look menacing at all.

"Lieutenant Gardson?" he asked, and she nodded. "I am Mark Clark, secretary of doctor Dunard. I wondered if you were outside."

"Does it happen a lot?" she asked as she walked past him, into the reception. His smile widened and he moved toward his desk. The door closed behind him.

"More often than you'd think," he said as he sat. "Alliance officials feel they have to help everyone, and aren't too prone to receiving help themselves when they need it," he paused. "The doctor is waiting for you. You'll see he's a very agreeable man."

She took a moment to look around. The reception wasn't very large, but looked warm and relaxing. There were a few couches, a small bookcase and some decorative small statues. Behind Clark's desk, that was sturdy and neat, there was a large window. Sunshine bathed the desk, the light brown rug and the wooden panels of the walls. The door that led to the doctor's office was old fashioned and made of thick wood. There wasn't an electronic mechanism she could see. She just opened it and entered.

Behind the door, a few steps away, there was a man in his mid-fifties, with white hair and beard. He was tall and athletic, and he had an honest face. She closed the door and walked toward him. He extended his hand and firmly shook hers.

"Commander Shepard," he greeted, "welcome. As you can see, I don't bite," he smiled.

"I do," she joked and looked around.

The office was large, with a huge desk and several couches, all looking comfortable. Two large windows let the sun come in, and it lit the wooden panels and paintings on the wall. There were more statues, and an end table with a plant over it. The place looked warm, inviting, which at the same time soothed and alarmed her.

"Many soldiers had shown me their teeth," he commented. "I'm not concerned at all. But please, sit wherever you like."

She sat on a couch that was against the wall with one of the windows, her legs spread and her forearms resting on her lap. The doctor took an armchair that also looked comfortable, and placed in front of her. He sat and looked at her.

"I can tell from your face," he said, "that you don't quite feel comfortable. You should know that whatever you say here, stays here. I won't judge you, ever. I will of course tell you my opinion, but always keeping in mind what would work for you, what kind of advise would suit your life and your personality. That's why I need to get to know you first, and of course I need you to be honest. Otherwise I can't help you."

"You've heard of me," she said drily, "all the galaxy has. That's why I had to use a fake name with your secretary."

"Yes, I heard of you, but I don't know you at all," he replied, moving slightly on his seat. "Doctor Chakwas didn't tell me anything about you, and even if she had, I couldn't use her perception of you to get to know you," he paused. "Does it bother you, the fake name? Would you rather not be so widely known?"

"Is it that obvious?" she asked. She straightened her back and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Why? What bothers you exactly?"

"The dead people," she burst. "How comes I'm a galactic hero? What about them and their sacrifice?"

"Didn't you sacrifice anything, Commander?" he asked in a soft tone.

"Not my life, no," she replied, moving uncomfortably. "Not the man I love, although if he had died... I wouldn't know what to do with myself," she paused. "My father. He gave his life evacuating a colony, and I hadn't seen him in... well, a long time. And now my mother is stranded far, far away..."

"So, basically, you survived a terrible war, a massacre-"

"Like all other sentient beings alive today," she interrupted him. "I'm not special for it."

"No, you're not special for being alive," he said. "You'd be special alive or dead, because the dead heroes you mention didn't bring the galaxy together. Please, understand that I see you as my patient and just another human being, but I do know your deeds."

"I didn't do any of that alone."

"Of course you didn't, it would be absurd to think otherwise. There aren't heroes who did everything by themselves," he paused. "Did you also feel like this about the medal you earned for the Skyllian Blitz?"

"No..." she paused to think, and leaned forward, again leaning her forearms on her legs. "You know, I was married back then, with Kyle Derksen. We both defended the colony and got medals, but after a while people forgot about him. When I was designated the first human Spectre."

"Then basically what bothers you is that other people don't get the recognition they deserve."

"Yeah," she lowered her head. "People credit me about curing the genophage and making peace among the turians and krogans, but what about Mordin Solus? He died up there, fixing the cure his own people sabotaged. And what about my geth friend, Legion? He sacrificed for his people, after the geth and quarian truce. He... Legion... had fixed himself with a piece of my old armor. When I asked him about it, he couldn't explain to me why he had done it, or why didn't he repair himself properly. He... admired me, he just didn't have a name for his feelings."

"You care a lot about your people," doctor Dunard commented.

"Damn sure I do, doctor. They trusted me, and I couldn't..." her voice cracked, "keep them alive."

"Do you have superpowers, Commander Shepard?" he asked. She looked at him, and he continued, "Are you some kind of goddess, or are you immortal? Are you not affected with human limitations?"

"No, I..." she started, but didn't say anything else.

"Do you blame other people for things they tried to do but didn't have the means to accomplish?"

"No," she said in a firm tone.

"But you do blame yourself," Dunard said. It wasn't a question.

"I... I guess I do," she reclined on the couch, her arms again crossed.

"Why?"

"I have no idea," she narrowed her eyes and stared at him. "Right now I hate you for reading into me so easily, Chakwas said you're good but I should have asked for a less clever doctor."

"You hate me already?" he laughed. "Good! Then we're doing great, we'll make a lot of progress in little time."

"Is it some kind of bet you have with yourself, doc? Making sure patients hate you?"

"You experienced injures on the battlefield," he said, "and needed doctors to fix you, but first they had to clean the wounds, and that was painful. Didn't you hate them, at least a little? This is the same, you and many soldiers have emotional injures that need to be cleaned and let time to heal. If you hate me, I'm doing it right."

"That's one way to see it, I guess," she turned her head and looked out the window. A flock of birds flew nearby. The sky was patched with a few white clouds. She looked back at him. "I feel at disadvantage, because I know nothing about you."

"Fair enough," he said. "I studied here in London, and have worked in the Alliance Military almost since I got my degree. I've seen a lot of pain, treated everything from enlisted personal to high rank officials. Each had a different story, and they were never nice. This soldiers had seen horror in the face, and most had to be responsible for causing horror themselves."

"Not easy," she commented. "However, if I had known what was coming, I'd still choose to serve. There's nothing else I'd rather do."

"Many feel like you," he said nodding. After a pause, he added, "On a more personal note, I have a wife and two daughters, about your age. The oldest is married and recently I learned I'll be a grandfather."

"Congratulations," she said, smiling.

"Thank you, Commander," he paused. "What else would you like to know?"

"Did you always want to be a doctor in the Alliance?"

"No," he answered, and his eyes seemed to cloud with dark memories. "I had a friend from school, she was like a sister to me. She joined the Alliance, and had to see first hand some of the horror I spoke about. She killed herself. Post traumatic stress. That's when I decided I'd offer the Alliance my skills and help other soldiers, to honor her memory."

"That was very noble of you," she seemed to relax, slightly. Some of the tension from her shoulders vanished visibly.

"Not many patients ask about me, and those who do, normally just want to know if I'm qualified enough to treat them, or if I will judge them about some horrible decision they had to make."

"Horrible decisions?" she shook her head. "I could write a book about it." She leaned forward and looked straight into his eyes. "What about patients beyond hope? Did you have those?"

"Oh yes," he nodded with a sad expression on his earnest face. "Commander, you couldn't save all your people, but neither could I. We're only humans, after all. But listen, you're not in that group. You'll be fine, if you let me help you."

"How can you tell, from so little time?"

"Your voice is not the only one speaking to me. The fire in your eyes is the strongest I've ever seen. Every single patient I had who still had fire dancing in their eyes, made a full recovery."

She leaned back and reclined on the couch, a soft laughter emerging from her lips. "All right, doc, you win. I'll trust you, you earned it."

"Glad to hear that," he said, smiling. After a brief pause, he added, "Now, remember I told you that I need to know you in order to help you?"

"What would you like to know?" she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Everything would be ideal, but we have to start somewhere, right? It can be something about your past or your present, something very significant or trivial. Your choice."

"Something trivial, then," she said. "I feel strange about the word 'home'."

"Why?"

"I really never had a home, I guess," she crossed her legs. "I was born on board of a ship, literally, because my mom waited too long before taking the shuttle to the colony they were stationed at. The first time my feet landed on a planet was also my first day of school, but after classes, normally a shuttle would take me back to the ship, where my bed was," she paused. "Then I started high school here on Earth, at the Eagle Alliance Academy, but I didn't really have a 'home'. I had a bunk bed. The day of prom, I enlisted instead, and I slept aboard the ships I served in."

"You mentioned you were married," he commented. "Didn't you have a home with your husband?"

"Nope. He served on the same ships. Sometimes the C.O. would let us share a bed, because we were legally married and had the same rank. But then I was assigned to the Normandy, and he wasn't. He resented me for that."

"And what happened then?" he asked, showing genuine interest.

"Hell opened its gates," she grimaced. "He wanted me to abandon my pursuit of Saren, and of course, he didn't believe me about the Reapers. I..." she looked at him with caution. "You said you cannot talk about what I tell you."

"I'd lose my license if I didn't respect doctor-patient confidentiality, and I really don't want to give that example to my grandson or granddaughter," he smiled. "You can trust me, I won't repeat what you tell me. I've been doing this for a while."

She looked at him briefly, and then said: "A month after the attack from Saren on the Citadel, I... died," she admitted. She searched for an expression in his eyes, but he kept the same interested look. "_Damn, he's good._" she thought, and continued speaking. "We were attacked by an unidentified ship while we were on a routine recon mission against the geth. The crew made it to the escape pods, but I was spaced and my suit ruptured. I literally died back there. Cerberus recovered my body and spent billions of credits to bring me back to life. Project Lazarus, they called it."

"This terrorists knew how to revive people?" he asked, and she studied his tone to search for disbelief. She only found curiosity.

"They created Project Lazarus just to revive **me**. They needed me because I had become a symbol, and they could bring me back because my brain was intact. The Illusive Man believed I could stop the attacks on the human colonies. We later found that the Collectors were behind the attacks on the colonies and the original Normandy," she paused. "Not many people know about this, for obvious reasons."

"Of course," Dunard nodded.

She narrowed her eyes. "Do you really believe me, or are you taking mental notes about how crazy I am?"

He laughed, and moved in his seat. "Fine, Commander, I'll tell you exactly what I know about you, and perhaps this will clear some doubts in your mind," he looked at her with an honest expression in his features. "I asked for your personal files, and learned that you had contact with a prothean beacon on Eden Prime. I know that this beacon imprinted some kind of vision into you. This allowed you to warn the galactic council about the Reaper's menace, but they didn't believe you. Later you warned them about the Collectors, and again they dismissed your warning. You found the blueprints for the Crucible-"

"Liara T'Soni did," she interrupted him, "I just extracted her from Mars."

"OK. Liara T'Soni lived because you were there to extract her, and she gave us the blueprints that eventually saved the galaxy. You also found what the Catalyst was and how to use it. From all this, I gather you don't have a tendency to lie, and that it's not a good idea to dismiss your words."

She laughed, "I don't know if you're really being honest or you're very good at lying, but you sure know how to make someone trust you, doctor."

"I'm not really a good liar," he said. "There is one more thing. I think of myself as a scientist, and I believe in science and progress. I always believed science would make possible to rebuild people and bring them back from the dead. It only makes sense that a terrorist organization would do this, because no government would ever fund such an investigation. For obvious reasons."

"Yeah," she said softly, "now that you say it that way..." she paused, and then added, "I'm glad that you believe in my visions, because that means I will be able to tell you what's keeping me awake at night. But not today," she said firmly. "I was speaking about Kyle..."

"Yes, you were," said the doctor, "you were telling me that he wasn't pleased with your mission to stop Saren, and that he didn't believe you about the Reapers."

"He wanted to talk about it, but I died," she resumed. "Project Lazarus took two years. Miranda, one of the Cerberus operatives on the project, woke me up when the station we were at was under attack," she paused and shook her head. "Anyway, as soon as I could contact Kyle, I told him I had been in a coma, and about the Collectors. He refused to believe me and we divorced."

"How did you feel about it?"

"Pissed off, of course," she replied quickly.

"Only that?" his tone was inquisitive.

"I knew my marriage had failed when I was aboard the original Normandy. I didn't feel much about it, really. Anger?" she paused and looked at him. "Is not like I had with Kyle the same kind of relationship I have with Garrus," she tilted her head. "Garrus is my... well, he used the word 'boyfriend' when we were saying goodbye, before our final mission against the Reapers."

"What word would you use?"

"I don't know..." she seemed lost. "The turian I live with?" she joked.

"At your 'home'?" he asked. "What's the real problem, Commander? You don't feel comfortable with Garrus?"

"I feel **too** comfortable with Garrus," she narrowed her eyes and leaned forward, uncrossing her legs and resting her arms on them. "That's the real problem."

"I see," he said.

"No, don't do that, I hate it when people just say 'I see'. Speak your mind, doc."

He laughed frankly. "You'd expect a strong personality from the one person who united a galaxy, but you really are something else. Luckily my years of experience prepared me. Many patients tried to intimidate or manipulate me, to no avail. You won't be the exception."

"Meaning, you won't tell me what you think?"

"I see no therapeutic benefits for you of speaking my mind right now, before I have a clearer outlook of your situation," he paused. "Meaning, no, sorry, 'I see' will have to do. But you're free to tell me what else do you feel."

"I absolutely miss Mordin," she said softly. "You know? If he were alive, I'd be speaking with him instead. You're really good, but he was my friend..."

"I understand," he said, nodding.

"This damn war..." she murmured and sat straight. "Mordin gave me 'medical advice' when I was starting something with Garrus. I don't know if he noticed or if it was a gossip on the Normandy, and honestly I don't care. The crew was – is – my family in a way, and I don't mind that they knew about Garrus and me."

"Of course you feel that way, you were born on a ship," he commented.

"Yeah," she laughed softly. "Anyway, I never read what he sent me about turians and their..." she cleared her throat "mating habits. It wasn't necessary at all in the end, Garrus and I just figured what to do just fine. Honestly? He's the best partner I ever had."

"Is there more to your relationship than the physical aspects?"

"Doctor, he's the person I trust most in this entire galaxy. He's been with me to hell and back, and... well, he saw me cry about my dad... he held me all night, I fell asleep in his arms. He really cares for me. He stood at my bed side for five entire months, while I was in a coma. I don't think I really loved Kyle, that was a mostly physical relationship, but I do love Garrus, I'm sure of it."

"Does Garrus support you about your decision to do therapy?"

"Hmm..." she started, doubtful. "He doesn't know I'm here."

"So much for the trust you have in him," he said.

"Nobody knows, I don't want people to think that I'm crazy."

"Didn't they tell you that crazy people normally don't seek help?" he shook his head. "Therapy is not just for crazy people, many times we can't really help them without medication. It's for people who had bad experiences, to help them deal with them."

"Yeah, whatever," she said. "I don't know, Garrus did say he wants to take care of me, but I'm a soldier and he... well, you know, all turians have military training."

"I don't really see a problem there. Are you saying that because you're a soldier, you can't have a meaningful relationship?"

"No!" she replied, almost yelling. "Why would you say that?"

"All I'm saying is that you can't have a deep, involved relationship with someone, unless you trust him and share a piece of your soul with him. If you truly care about him, you will have to talk honestly with him, let him be a part of your life."

"He has been a part of my life for a long time, he was my friend before we had something else."

"Do you let him see your fears, your sorrow, your weaknesses, or do you try to hide them from him?" he asked, and she didn't reply. She just stared at him, and the doctor continued. "Are you afraid that he'll leave you if he sees all that, just like Kyle did?"

She opened her mouth to speak, and closed it again. After a while she said in a low voice, "All my life, all I ever wanted was a man who could understand me to be my companion. I thought Kyle was the guy, but obviously I was the one who didn't understand. Now I think I found that man in Garrus, but what if I'm mistaken again? What if he gets it all wrong? I mean, he's a turian, we don't even share the same culture..."

"What better reason to talk about everything? You don't share a background, and you'll probably have to explain things like popular expressions or cultural differences," he tilted his head slightly. "If you really want him to understand you, you'll have to open yourself, otherwise your fears would be dooming your relationship."

"I guess you're right," she admitted, reluctantly.

"What are you really afraid of? Do you think his feelings for you will diminish if he sees you vulnerable?" the doctor asked bluntly.

"No," Shepard answer, "he said he loves me and I believe him. But if he ever treats me differently I'll have to leave him, and I don't really want to be alone."

"I don't think the translator device of your turian came with a mind reading application, nor that you would like that anyway, right?" he asked, smiling warmly.

"I'd totally hate that," she paused. "He already told me he won't do that, that he won't think less of me because I'm a mess right now, but..."

"Either you'll have to trust the guy," he said, slowly, "or not. Make a decision."

"I gave that piece of advice to an asari about a krogan who wrote poetry for her. I guess I'm not good at following my own advice."

"Most people aren't," he said.

"Yeah," she paused. "Doc, I don't know how much time we have left, but I'm really tired now, I'd like to go home. By the way, the word feels a little less strange."

"No problem, Commander," he got up from his armchair, and she stood up too. "I think we made a lot of progress today. See you next week, same time?" he extended his hand.

"Sure," she shook his hand, "if nobody requires me to kill anything or save another galaxy at that moment."


	2. Chapter 2: The truth about the fishes

**NOTE:** Well, I had this inspiration strike and I had to finish this chapter. Is shorter than the first one but really, chapters end when they do. I hope you like it! More Dr. Dunard on the next chapter, that will be published whenever I finish it and not a minute before. :P

Thank you for all the reviews and the people following this story!

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Chapter 2: The truth about the fishes

Shepard woke up gasping for air. It took her a moment to realize she was safe, laying on her bed, and that she only had a bad dream. Her mind needed a few seconds to adjust to the fact that she was on Earth, in London, inside the house the Geth built for her and Liara decorated. Her room looked a lot like her cabin on the Normandy, but it was larger and had working guns for decoration. She had her own private terminal, her model ships, her couch, the aquarium. Her space hamster had been recovered from under the decks of the ship, after the final battle with the Reapers.

Slowly, she opened her eyes. When they adjusted to the dim light, she noticed a figure sitting on the bed, next to her.

"Garrus?" she asked softly, her voice trailing off from sleep and from the uneasiness the nightmare had put on her.

"Right here, Melody," said the turian with his reverberating, masculine voice.

She liked the sound of her first name on the double-toned voice of the turian. She remembered how he used to call her only 'Shepard' until he moved to that house with her, when she woke up from a five month coma and decided she had had enough of the hospital that very same day. Living with him hadn't been her call, or his for that matter. The Geth just assumed they'd want to live together, and with Earth still battered by the war and deeply involved with rebuild efforts, there wasn't enough housing to choose from. She couldn't complain though. The situation still felt a little strange, but deep inside she had to admit to herself that she liked being with him, waking up with him.

"Bad dreams again?" Garrus asked, concerned.

"Yeah," she replied while sitting on the bed. He slowly ran a hand through her naked back, careful as always of not hurting her with his talons. From the very beginning of their peculiar relationship - even on that night before the Omega Four relay when they had been just friends blowing off steam - he had given evidence that he was aware of the frailty of human skin. He had never so much as scratched her, and she had stopped worrying long ago that he accidentally might. She turned her head to look at him. "Did I wake you?"

"It doesn't matter," he said shaking his head. "Are you alright? You were moaning in your sleep."

"Sorry," the Commander apologized. She got up, took her hoodie, and put it on. She sat on the rim of the bed, her legs folded in front of her, her head bent down. From the look of her, she didn't seem to be the mighty hero who united the galaxy and fought an ancient race of murderous machines. She just seemed a tired woman.

"I'm worried about you," admitted the turian sniper, his voice deep with concern. "I didn't exactly enjoy seeing you with your eyes closed for five entire months, laying on a hospital bed with tubes and machines connected to you, but I'm not enjoying seeing you unable to sleep either."

She looked at him, thinking on the exact words she'd say. Finally she told him:

"Garrus... I know it's not healthy. I'm doing something about it. Seeing a shrink. Well, saw him once so far. I didn't know how to tell you, I don't know if turian..." she didn't know how to finish the phrase.

"We don't really have those," he said, "but we've been around the galaxy long enough to know we could seek an asari counselor should we need one." He reached out for her and grabbed one of her hands with his three fingers, tightly. "And Melody... next time you wanna share something with me, you don't have to **think** how to say it. I'm Garrus, remember? Just Garrus for you, always. You can say anything however you please, not that you have to be reminded of saying whatever the hell you want to whomever happens to be unlucky enough to cross your path."

She laughed softly. She crawled on the bed, moving towards him. She nested herself in front of him, surrounded by his legs, and rested her head on the hard plaques of this chest.

"Yelling is easy," she said, softly, while distractedly caressing the leathery skin on the lower part of his torso. "Yelling, I'm good at. Opening my heart to someone else? Not so much."

"You're good at cracking open other people's hearts though," he said chuckling. "I remember how upset I was with you because you didn't let me kill Sidonis... You kept saying I wasn't like that, and in the end you were right. You knew me better than I knew myself. I wish I could do that for you."

"You do a lot for me, Garrus," she whispered. She separated from him a little, until her face was right in front of his, her eyes set on his. "People call me a hero, but I couldn't have done what I did without you. You gave me strength when I was falling, and you're the only person who knows how many times I tripped. You were always there to catch me..."

"You-" started Garrus, but she silenced him by putting a hand over his mandibles.

"No, let me finish," she said, weakly. "I know you'll say I could have done it, but you'd be wrong. I'm not even the woman people seem to think I am. I didn't save this galaxy, I didn't even make it to the Conduit. Anderson saved us all. I only had this stupid vision while I was a worthless ball of meat on the ground..."

"There are krogan out there," started Garrus in a firm tone, "that are waiting for news about their babies, and they aren't trying to kill us. There's a rachni queen singing a song the asari say it's beautiful, I'll take their word. There are geth improving the suits of the quarian so they can adapt faster, and they're still doing it after the war. And don't even get me started on the stupid vision the worthless ball of meat had..."

"Why not?" she said, defiant.

"Because you resisted the vision," he replied, clearly irritated, "and that alone allowed you to understand how to use the Catalyst. Because you told Anderson about it when he found you, with the last of your strength. Because without that information we'd probably all be dead. So. There. So much for a person who didn't save the galaxy. A person who didn't bring even the last miserable excuse of a ship from every corner of the galaxy to protect the Crucible, because, you know what? It wasn't necessary, we could have done it with the Normandy alone."

She shook her head, slowly. There were no other sounds in the room other than the soft murmur that came from the fish tank. She stared at it, lost in the swimming pattern of a bright colored fish.

"Melody, look at me," requested Garrus, and she slowly turned her head to face his steel blue eyes. "If I had lost you in the war, I wouldn't have known what to do with myself, other than live to make you proud. I would have meet you at the bar with my head up, and told you about the things I'd had accomplished. I knew the score, I knew there was a chance I'd never see you again. I told you I always expect the worse. But, this... I don't know how to deal with a Commander Shepard who feels she didn't perform her duty because she didn't die."

Her eyes opened wide. She pressed a hand on his right shoulder. Suddenly she found it was hard to breathe. "I... Garrus..." she said, anxious. "No... it's not that..."

"Then what is it?" he asked.

His eyes seemed more demanding without the visor that he normally used. She was the only person who had seen his face without it in the last few years, and he was the only person who had seen her with her hair untied in the last few years. She vaguely became aware of that trivial fact, that deep down wasn't trivial at all.

"I... don't know," she finally said.

Garrus gently took her hand, that was still over his shoulder, and opened it to release her grip. He moved away from her, disentangling his legs from around her, and got up from the bed. He started getting dressed, and she suddenly felt cold.

"Garrus," she whispered.

"At the hospital," he said while he was dressing, "many people went with the excuse of seeing you, but in fact they went to see **me**. They all wanted me to go 'home', sleep on a proper bed. They even spoke about taking shifts to watch you, so that you didn't have to wake up alone. But none of them really believed you'd ever wake up," he paused his talking and his movements, looking straight at her. "A friend of my sister is stranded here on Earth. I know her from Palaven, she's a kind woman most of the time. You know what she told me when she went to see me? 'Focus on the living', she said. I yelled at her, pointing at your breathing chest. I told her you were among the living and that the galaxy owed you at least one person willing to focus on **you**."

"Garrus, what if I had never wake up?" she asked with her voice burdened with deep emotion. She moved on the bed, to face him, her legs sprawled over the wrinkles of the bedding.

He resumed dressing. He said with an dry tone: "Then a very old turian would have died on a hospital chair, eventually."

She got up and reached him. She caressed lightly the scars on his face. "That's not right," she said. "I wouldn't have wanted you to live all your life like that, stuck to a hospital room next to a breathing corpse..."

"You don't understand," he said taking her hand softly. "I wouldn't have given up hope. Not on you. I would have stayed because that day had to be the one. And then the night would fall and I'd tell to myself, 'no problem, it'll be tomorrow'. And I would have done that each day," he paused. "I don't know why does it bother you. For as long as you were alive, you didn't deserve to live alone, awake or not. And if you died... you didn't deserve to die alone."

She moved away from him, because she found herself unable to deal with the intensity of her feelings. She asked herself how was it possible that someone would love her like that, so absolutely.

She walked to the fish tank and pressed the button to feed them, although Liara had installed the VI she had bought on the Citadel that took care of the task. Commander Shepard liked small living creatures, but that was probably because she was a big fan of life in general. Dead fish? Not so much, especially after a mission in which she had had to choose whether to save the viability of a colony or the colonists, or after she had to doom 304,942 innocent batarian in order to save the entire galaxy. That was the reason why she had used all those credits to purchase something as trivial as a VI to feed her fishes. She had walked over pieces of human corpses inside a Collector's ship, she walked over pieces of turian corpses on Menae. She wasn't going to collapse emotionally over the corpses of her dead fishes, and the last thing she needed to see in her cabin was an empty aquarium. She certainly didn't need a grim reminder of what the Reapers would have done to the galaxy if she had failed.

For a while, none of them spoke. She stared at the fishes, knowing that he was right there, behind her. He was in the exact same position as in so many mission they'd done together. She took him with her as often as she could, because she knew that she could trust him to watch her back. Except she didn't take him on the last push against the Reapers, because she didn't expect to make it alive. She desperately wanted him to live, and she knew she wouldn't be able to concentrate if he was with her. She had been willing to sacrifice herself for the galaxy, but also she had been willing to sacrifice for Garrus Vakarian.

Slowly, the irony of it all made it's way to her mind. She laughed softly.

"What's so funny?" asked Garrus.

"We're a pair of fools," she said, still looking at the fishes. She heard him approaching her, but she didn't turn. "Look at us. We'd do anything to make sure the other is fine..." she felt his hand over her shoulder, and she grabbed it. Only then did she turn to look at him. She lost in his eyes. "The best way you can take care of me is by taking care of you. I get it, Garrus. That's what you're asking of me. And the answer is yes, I will."

He chuckled softly, and said: "Yeah, I guess I am asking that of you. I wouldn't have expressed it better, but that's why you are Commander Shepard," he paused. "Yes, please, take care of yourself, for a change. I'll be here."

"As you always had," she said.


	3. Chapter 3: What's not on the files

Chapter 3: What's not on the files

On her second appointment with doctor Dunard, Shepard arrived at the exact hour she was supposed to be there. Mark Clark opened the door and greeted her.

"See?" she told the young man as she walked in. She had a half smile on her face. "On time today. How have you been, Mark?"

The secretary seemed a little surprised that she called him by his first name, or that she asked about him.

"Fine, Lieutenant, and you?" he said.

"Great," she replied. She walked to the window behind Mark's desk. It was snowing outside. The flakes fell over the roofs and terraces of repaired buildings, and on the ruins of other structures that were beyond repair. Earth still showed signs of the onslaught it had endured, and she was sure that was true on every other planet with sentient, advanced species. She withdrew from the window.

"The doctor-" started the secretary.

"Is waiting in his office, I know," Shepard interrupted him. She stood silent, near the window, looking out for a few seconds. "Hell of a war," she finally said.

"Yeah," Mark replied in agreement, his voice becoming dark, burdened with memories. "Lost my brother and my mom. My sister and dad made it."

"Sorry for your loss," she said with genuine sympathy, looking straight at him.

"Hell of a war, you said it yourself, Lieutenant," he replied. "My dad's an architect, who'd guess they'd be so needed. My sister works in the hydroponic farms. Even with so much death, there's still a lot of mouths to be fed, human and alien," he paused for a moment. "That's a great thing, though."

"Yeah," she nodded, "it is." Shepard sighed and looked at the closed wooden door, and then back at the young secretary. "I should go," she said.

Mark nodded and sat at his desk. The Commander walked to the office's door, and opened it without knocking. Dunard was sitting on an armchair, but he got up to greet her. She closed the door behind her.

"Thought I wouldn't come?" she asked him as she shook his hand.

"Oh, I knew a little snow wouldn't stop you," the doctor replied with a grin. "Have a seat, please."

She walked to the couch she had occupied the last time she had been there, but she stood in front of it, looking out the window. Dunard patiently sat in front of that couch, with his arms over the armchair.

"You don't take notes?" she asked, looking behind her, in the direction the doctor was. She turned and shifted her weight on one of her legs, her arms crossed over her chest. "Are people wrong when they picture shr... I mean, psychiatrists, with a datapad on their hand?"

"I don't need to take notes. I remember everything my patients say," he paused. "I'm not good at anything else. I can't dance. Can't sing, Can't cook. Can't shoot a gun, or even punch a mugger if I needed to. I can't even lie, I always give myself up. But Commander, I'm good at what I do, and I remember what I'm told."

"You probably had a lot of patients..." she insisted, sitting in front of the doctor with her legs spread and her forearms leaning on them. "Can you remember about them all even if you haven't seen them in a long time?"

"Yes. Every single one," he replied in a calm tone, just observing her.

"Impressive," she remarked with a slight movement of her head. "How do you do it, is it just natural for you or do you have some sort of technique?"

"Stealing away you own time so I don't make you speak about yourself?" asked the doctor grinning. He placed his hands over his knees, relaxed. "I told you a few things about myself last time, because you needed to know who I am in order to trust me, but this isn't about me."

"I know, doc, and I'm not playing with you," she straightened her back. "Just curious. There you have, something about me. Curiosity is a major flaw in my personality."

"Smart move, Commander," the doctor said, laughing. "Smart move," he made a brief pause, in which he seemed to be studying her. Finally he made an almost imperceptible movement with his head, and said: "Fine, I'll tell you. When you see a person, you recognize him or her. You don't see an individual mouth, a set of eyes, a hair color." While he was talking he gestured with his hands to emphasize his words. "You connect every trait on that person's face and you create a mental image. Well, that's what I do. When I see a patient I treated, I also see how it all comes together. Their personal history, their fears, their manias. Their hopes and dreams. It all shapes in a pattern I can recognize. That's also how I see if they are doing better or worse. So, yes, I'm a damn good shrink."

She chuckled and moved on her seat.

"Anything else?" asked Dunard, smiling.

"Not right now," she answered shaking her head. "Something will come to my mind eventually, but for now I'm good."

"Great," he said, nodding. "So, how have you been?"

"Good, actually. Been doing a lot of things," her voice sounded vibrant.

"What kind of things?" Dunard asked interested.

"Well, for a start, I led a memorial ceremony in my ship, for our fallen," she said matter-of-factly. She leaned forward and rested her elbows on her laps. Her hands intertwined together near her chest. "It was something very private, for my squad mates and a few other people I trust."

"How did it go?" he asked, placing his forearms on the arms of the chair. His gray eyes scanned her, as if he could read her thoughts if he looked intensely enough.

"Good," she replied, nodding. Her features had a neutral expression. "We hadn't had time to do something like that during the war..."

"How did you **feel**?" the doctor insisted.

"Lots of ghosts put to rest." She lowered her head, slightly. "I actually needed that," she added, softening her voice.

"Yes," the doctor said while he nodded, "those ceremonies are important for closure."

"Yeah."

"You mentioned last week that something was keeping you awake at night," he said as if he had suddenly remembered it. "Are you sleeping better?"

"Doc," she said with a grim smirk, leaning back, "that's another matter entirely."

She stared at a certain picture on the wood paneling of the office. It showed a traditional English cottage in a prairie. Shepard vaguely thought that if that house existed, it was probably left alone by the Reapers. Perhaps a small family dwelt there, their lives not totally shattered by giant alien machines. She shook her head. A soft wind had started blowing outside, depositing flakes of snow on the border of the window behind her. The sound it made was a little numbing.

"Tell me about it," the doctor requested. "You go to bed at night, and then what happens? Are your thoughts keeping you awake? You fall asleep but you wake up because you're having bad dreams?"

"Both," she admitted in a low-pitched voice. She crossed her arms over her chest. "You know, I've never been a heavy sleeper, and after my training on the N7 program I really didn't need much sleep. But ever since I woke up from coma... I can say I had a great night if I slept three hours. Doesn't happen so often."

"Aren't you tired?" he asked with some concern in his voice.

"Nope," she shook her head, slowly. She crossed her legs. "I have this frantic energy, this urge to get things done right now... I've always been active, but I'm way beyond that lately."

"I see," he said in a low voice.

"And here comes the 'I see' again," she commented, disappointment oozing in her voice.

"We'll get there," he said grinning. "Is this anxiety keeping you awake, this urge to be in action all the time? Do you feel that you should be doing something else, instead of sleeping?"

"No..." she started slowly. She tilted her head a little and uncrossed her arms, placing her palms down over the couch at her sides. "That's what keeps me awake during the day. At night... at first it was because I had been asleep for five months. You know? The first night I had this feeling..." she paused and her breathing rhythm increased ever so little. "It's hard to explain."

"Try, and I'll ask you if I don't understand," he offered in a soothing voice.

"When I woke up in that hospital room," she said, her muscles obviously tensing, her face contorting in a grimace, "Garrus was there and I told him about this vision I had..." she paused. "During the Battle of the Crucible, when I was injured by the Reaper guarding the Conduit, I fell to the floor. My mind however did not. I had this series of hallucinations... very strange stuff, but I only understood later that they weren't real," again she made a pause, remembering. "Something about a child – a ghost child – saying that he was the Catalyst, and then my Normandy stranded on some jungle planet... Anyway, the first night I couldn't shake the feeling that the day I had just spent with Garrus and a couple of friends was part of the hallucination..."

"You thought your mind was tricking you," he said, moving slightly in his armchair. There wasn't a question in his voice.

"Yeah, exactly," said the Commander, distressed. "I didn't fear that I wouldn't wake up again if I went to sleep that night. What I feared is that I'd realize I hadn't woken up at all." She moved uncomfortably on the couch, her lips closed for a while. After nearly a minute she resumed talking. "During the day I'd accepted that I'd been in a coma for months and I was back. But at night, it wasn't so easy to tell what was real," she paused. "It was dark, and the shapes were vague. You see, Liara decorated my room a lot like my cabin on the Normandy. The turian sleeping right beside me could have been a memory, a wish... My body could have still been on that hospital bed, while my mind thought I was with Garrus..."

Neither of them spoke for a minute. Shepard crossed her arms as if she felt cold. Dunard then asked softly:

"Is that why you discharged yourself from the hospital?"

"Oh, you know that?" she sounded surprised. She let her arms fall to her sides.

"It's on your files," he replied in a calm tone. He briefly glanced behind him, in the direction of his desk.

"Of course it is," she said, tired. "Anyway," she continued after a brief pause, "that first night I didn't sleep." She uncrossed her legs and leaned forward, resting her forearms on her laps. "I just watched my turian breathing, fearing that if I so much as blinked, he might disappear. I slept the second night, but that was when the bad dreams began."

"And now?" the doctor asked, genuinely interested.

"The dreams are getting worse," she lowered her voice. "Doctor, I'm a soldier. I was wounded many times, and I have a high pain threshold. I **died**, for fuck's sake. But... the Reaper's death ray, and the debris that fell over me... In all my years of service, I never experienced something like that." She shook her head. Her tone revealed anguish, the type of which the doctor had never heard from this particular patient. The contrast was apparent because so far she had been so controlled, in charge of herself despite the deep feelings she had confessed. "It was beyond pain, it was excruciating torture. And now the dreams are getting vivid and a little of that pain is creeping into them. Not every night, it only happened a couple of times, but..."

"You fear that if you sleep," completed Dunard, "it might happen again."

"Yeah," she admitted, nodding slowly. She seemed profoundly ashamed. "I mean, I'm a soldier, I shouldn't fear pain..."

"If you had to face a combat situation in real life, would you fear being injured?" he asked.

"Nope," she replied immediately. "It's not that I like it, but it comes with the job. I'm not scared of it. What I fear is that ghost pain, while I'm dreaming..."

"It's a reasonable response, Commander," he said, putting his elbows on the arms of his chair. "If you're wounded while you're awake, you can do something about it. Apply some medi-gel, have a painkiller. And you have the reward that you were performing your duty. However, if you feel pain in your dreams, there's nothing you can do about it, not to mention that nobody gains anything from it," Dunard paused. "I would think there's something seriously wrong with you if you didn't want to avoid that sort of pain. Luckily there are courses of action to take, for instance I could prescribe you some sleeping pills that-"

"Not happening," she interrupted with a wide and fast motion of her hand from side to side, with her palm down, while shaking her head. "I'm not taking drugs."

"I felt that would be your answer," he paused. "It may be necessary though. According to your files, you woke up from coma about a month ago. If you can't sleep well for much longer, you could seriously compromise your health."

"Give me the options," she demanded. Her self control, her decision and the leadership her voice exuded were all back. There wasn't even a shadow of her previous distress.

"Well, today, before you leave," Dunard said, "I'll give you some relaxation exercises. If they don't work, I'll have to prescribe you the pills next week."

"I'll make them work," she said, determined.

"Don't you dare lying to me about it next time," he said, grinning. He adopted a more serious tone, and said: "It'd really be against your interests."

"Doc, I'm here, right?" she said, sounding exhausted. She leaned back, resting on the couch. "Chakwas didn't send me, I asked her to recommend me someone and she gave me your name. I know I should sleep, but I'll make your relaxation exercises work," she paused. "I want to get better. I promised Garrus I'd take care of myself."

He nodded slowly, while she thought about all the other things she wasn't telling him. She decided that information could wait. She wasn't ready to speak about all of her concerns with him yet.

"You started this therapy after returning to active service," he said a moment later. "I wouldn't have recommended it if you came before. In fact, I'm thinking on giving Admiral Hackett advice to place you on leave for some time."

"No, doctor," she said, anxious, "don't do that to me. I'm on duty because I asked for it."

"I know," he said with a smile. "Hackett gave me your files in person. They are very confidential and complete. I don't think many people would be cleared to see those files, in fact I'd be surprised if anyone else other than the Admiral and myself had full access to them."

"You must be some kind of Alliance institution," she commented, leaning forward and placing her elbows on her laps, "if Hackett places so much trust in you."

"I gave the Alliance reason for that trust," the doctor said, confident. He seemed to be considering something for a moment. Finally he got up. He walked past his desk and lifted a painting on the wall. There was a safe behind it. He opened it, took something and closed it again, a low beep confirming the security had been reactivated. He returned with a small disk, the size of half his palm. He handed it to the Commander. "Here, have a peek," he said, while she took the disk, "It's heavily encrypted, and each file has a different password. Well, they aren't really passwords, they're quantum states, it'd take half the age of the Universe to crack them with brute force analysis."

Shepard opened her omni-tool and scanned the disk, but she couldn't access the files. The doctor approached and indicated her what to type. Before her eyes came the report of her return to active service. She read while he was standing next to her.

The file said that she had refused the promotion she was offered by the Alliance. It also had the information that Cerberus was still operating, and that the Illusive Man hadn't been found. On addition, it said that Hackett assigned her to a specialized team with the mission of finding Cerberus cells, and neutralizing them. The team was led by another N7 operative, Major Ian McAllister, and she was supposed to take her direct orders from him.

The Commander closed the file, and gave the disk back to Dunard. He placed it again in the safe behind his desk, and sat back on his armchair, in front of her.

"Why did you let me see it?" she asked crossing her arms over her chest and tilting her head slightly.

"Because," he started slowly, "I need you to understand. I'm dedicated to helping you, and I'm not your enemy," he paused. "When I first met you, I told you I help people but keeping in mind who they are. The same piece of advise could work miracles in a person, and turn another into a complete mess." His voice was firm, resolute. He pointed to the wall where he had his safe. "Those files might not say who you are, but they say a lot about you. I know how important it is for you to be back on duty. I wouldn't even think of taking that from you for even a day, if I didn't believe you're are in serious risk."

"Risk of what?" she asked. There was some defiance in her tone, her posture, the shine on her eyes.

"Of causing permanent damage to your mind," he replied, not intimidated by the strong personality of the Commander. "I know you don't want to do that, but I'm not so sure if you know how to avoid it. Your pride could get in the way of your healing process."

Shepard stared a the doctor for a full minute, without saying a word. Her face was expressionless, her arms still crossed on her chest. Finally she got up and looked out the large window behind the couch. A mantle of snow covered the terraces, the debris, and the street outside. The sky was almost as white as the floor.

"I wouldn't let the Reapers do that to me," the Commander whispered after a while, standing next to the couch. Her eyes were still fixed on the view outside.

"Of course not," the doctor said, still sat on his armchair, with his head slightly tilted up to look at her. "However, last week we spoke about all the other people who helped you with your mission. You admitted you couldn't have done it alone," he paused. "Well, Commander, you can't do this alone either. If you knew how to heal, you'd have done it already. You'll have to trust that I know what I'm doing."

She shook her head and uncrossed her arms. Slowly she turned to face Dunard, and looked at him straight in his gray eyes.

"I trust you," she said, "but if you tell Hackett to place me on leave, you'll only manage to stress me even more. I won't rest while there's so much to do. This was a galactic war. Humanity has lost all resemblance of normal life, and society is sort of functioning because the Alliance military is taking charge." She dropped herself on the couch, facing the doctor. "We're literally forcing people to go on with their lives," she paused. "Meanwhile, Cerberus' plotting to kill all aliens stranded on our world, and the Alliance just doesn't have enough resources to find them and stop them for good. We're just playing cat and mouse with them. Not to mention the krogan are talking about eating salarian stew, and I don't mean a recipe. My friend Wrex is trying to ease the tension, but he's just one person. I have to make sure the krogan won't uprise again, this time taking their war against the salarian to the streets on Earth."

"It's not all your responsibility, Commander," Dunard said, calmly.

"Oh, but it is," she said leaning forward. "I brought these aliens here, I told them to come and help us. I know I could have died and someone else would have to fix this mess, but I'm alive and I won't turn my back on it."

"Fine, then," the doctor said with a sigh. "Just take it easy. I won't force you to take some time off, but you have to promise you'll find some pauses to relax."

"I promise," she said nodding. She sounded sincere.

He nodded and observed her for a while. Finally he said:

"You mentioned that you promised Garrus you'd take care of yourself. I assume you spoke with him, then."

"Yeah," she said, a very faint smile forming on her lips. "Told him I'm coming here. The only thing he had to say about it, was that next time I shouldn't think on how to tell him what's on my mind." She chuckled. "You know? I got the finest turian on the galaxy."

"Still not your boyfriend?" Dunard asked, smiling.

"Boyfriend is such a small word to describe him," she shook her head slowly, "I'm not a teen experiencing her first crush. No... Garrus is so much more than that. He was with me when we were chasing Saren, heard me when I let him see that he was indoctrinated. Saren committed suicide and Garrus helped me take down his corpse controlled by Sovereign.

"Then I died," she continued, "and Cerberus rebuilt me. I found Garrus on Omega, on a bad situation. I took him out of there, but he came with me to hell and back. We were on a suicide mission that ended with no casualties, because my team was **that** fucking good.

"After that... I was taken into custody, until the Board needed my help to understand what the hell was attacking us," she shook her head again, memories coming to her mind. "I went to the Citadel to find help, and from there to a moon on Palaven to retrieve the Primarch for a summit. Garrus was there, but he didn't stay to defend his home-world. He came with me. Granted, my mission was galaxy-wide and probably bigger than just one person holding ground on a moon, but... he came, and he's been with me during rough times," she paused. "He helped me take a Reaper down on Tuchanka and then another on Rannoch, and he was with me when we failed on Thessia, and then he came with me to the core of Cerberus HQ."

Shepard rose her head and looked at Dunard. "So, doc... how do you name a person like that 'a boyfriend'? I can't. I need another word to describe everything he is for me."

He looked at her and smiled. He didn't reply to that question, and she thought there probably wasn't an answer, other than the long explanation she had given him.

When Shepard finally left, she knew she'd have a lot of things to think about.


	4. Chapter 4: After the storm

Chapter 4: After the storm

She had never particularly enjoyed waiting. Commander Shepard was a woman of action. She was at her best when she was actually doing something, whether that was fighting or convincing someone it was futile to fight. Whatever was best for the Alliance or her overall mission at the circumstances.

However, she normally knew how to wait. She had spent all her life in ships and stations, and she knew she'd have idle time between destinations sometimes. She'd usually use that time to focus on her mission, or to relax with some of the amenities on board. Those 'amenities' lately included a certain turian with affinity for destruction, just like she had. The Alliance didn't have regs against fraternization with aliens, probably because they never thought they'd need them. Of course, she never calculated she would eventually fall in love with said alien during those idle times she had to really get to know him.

No, normally she didn't particularly enjoy waiting, but she didn't complain about it. Normally she didn't feel on edge about having to wait, like she was feeling that very moment. She knew Admiral Hackett would contact her any moment with orders, but she didn't know what those orders could be. The situation was delicate enough.

Shepard sat on her bed, thinking. As a measure to calm herself, she tried to remember everything she had done the day before.

It had started with a message from Hackett requesting her presence, and a call from Primarch Victus to Garrus. They had gone separate ways, but not before Garrus told her that Victus wanted him to be his official advisor. Vakarian had also mentioned that one of the main reasons he would never accept to be Primarch if offered, was that he would have to reside in Palaven. The radiation of the turian homeworld was just too toxic for humans, and he didn't want to live far away from her. She realized that she didn't want that either. She wanted to be selfish just this once, to keep him at her side, but of course she didn't let him know that she was thinking that.

Shepard had met with the Admiral, who explained to her that the Alliance had found a Cerberus spy among one of the several human employees in the turian embassy on Earth. She convinced Hackett that it was time to involve the turians in their fight, and she offered to speak personally with the Primarch. The Admiral also told her that a whole fleet of frigates was almost fully repaired, and that he needed the Commander to lead that fleet. Since the mass relays were broken, they would scan nearby systems for resources to help in the rebuilding efforts. That was an idea she had given the Admiral herself, but she didn't want to lead that fleet. She had turned down her promotion for a reason. However, she felt she had no choice. Hackett had made her a direct request, and she couldn't just say no to the only high officer alive who always had her back.

Aboard the legendary Indomitable dreadnought, she spoke with Primarch Victus about the situation with Cerberus, but also about galactic politics. She couldn't help herself, and she didn't even have time to realize that she had become a major player in the galactic scenario. Somewhere along the way of uniting all species to fight the Reapers, she had evolved from one hell of a soldier to a galactic peacemaker. Her mind however didn't have time to adjust to the idea that she was doing a lot more than 'her job'.

Afterward she returned to the Alliance's base with Garrus, who informed her that he had accepted the position of advisor. The once young, frustrated C-sec agent without a lot of experience, was now officially part of the turian hierarchy. He had become the closest man to the highest authority of an entire species. And she loved that man with an intensity she couldn't fully understand, or even handle.

In the base, they met with Major Ian McAllister, the N7 operative in charge of the elite group handling Cerberus' threat. The Major informed them what they learned from interrogating the spy: Cerberus had developed a neurotoxin that in small doses could interfere with high level mental functions. It could be used to effectively indoctrinate people of almost any species.

That very same day, the squad departed to the Venezuelan jungle to destroy the factory producing the neurotoxin, and the lab researching it. However, inside that lab there was a QEC that the Illusive Man employed to talk with Shepard, before she blew the place up.

What the Illusive Man had told her was probably what kept her on edge, unable to calm down. It didn't help, of course, what EDI and Traynor could analyze from the encrypted intel they gathered. They found evidence that Cerberus was being funded not only by wealthy individuals and private organizations. They were receiving money directly from some countries on Earth. Somehow they corrupted entire governments, or just found corrupted governments willing to work with them.

She didn't know what time it was when she heard that. It was probably very late at night, not that time of the day meant much for a spacer like her. Amazingly, at some point during the very same day she had found time to move all her belongings to the Normandy. She and Garrus officially lived in her repaired ship now. She had managed to sleep a few hours in her bed, the same she was sitting on. She was in her cabin, now turned their cabin, waiting for Traynor and Garrus to install the QEC he would need to communicate with the Primarch. Waiting for Hackett to tell her what he wanted her to do about the Cerberus situation.

Commander Shepard realized she desperately needed a drink. Or two. Or ten. And she didn't want to drink alone.

She jumped on her feet, and walked all the way from the Captain's Cabin to the Communications room. She found Liara and EDI still working in the War Room with the intel. She greeted them but she didn't ask them if they had any news. She didn't want to know just yet, and none of them stopped her in her way to meet 'her' turian.

When Shepard entered the Comm room, she found Samantha Traynor and Garrus Vakarian both busy with boards and wires.

"Now we need to adjust the main..." was saying the young specialist, but she interrupted herself when she noticed the CO enter the room. She saluted. "Oh, Commander! We were just installing a QEC between this ship and the Indomitable, and a secondary experimental QEC with four sources, cutting edge technology... oh, but I don't want to bore you with the details..."

"Your research, Traynor?" asked the Commander, looking at all the wires and devices. She stood next to Garrus, and she noticed the turian staring at her, as if he was trying to read something about her with his icy blue eyes.

"Yes!" replied Samantha, excited. A second later she lowered her eyes however. She seemed ashamed or self-conscious. "Well, not only mine, of course, it was an team effort from all Alliance R&D... Commander."

"Need something, Shepard?" the turian asked with his dual-toned voice. His expression showed concern for her.

"Nothing important," replied Melody, adopting her professional, unshakable mask. "If you're busy I can come back later." It was a lie, and she knew quite well that her mental state couldn't wait. However, she didn't want to stop Garrus from doing something important for their mission, just because she had time to go over everything she had done the day before and she was practically a mental wreck as a result.

"Oh, I can finish this alone!" informed Traynor, and immediately she resumed her work.

Garrus took Melody's arm, and lead her out of the War Room. He halted after the closed door behind them, still trying to read her soul with his blue eyes.

"What is it?" he asked in a tone that didn't admit refusal.

Shepard led him to the conference room. She leaned both forearms on the table, her head tilted down, looking at her hands. Garrus stood next to her. He placed a hand supportively on her back.

"I never told this to anyone," she started, shaking her head softly. She still didn't look at him, she seemed to be concentrated on her hands. "When I woke up in that Cerberus lab, I was... upset."

"I can hardly blame you for that," the turian commented, caressing her back lightly.

"Garrus?" she asked adopting a straight position. Her eyes gazed directly into his. "Remember when you were obsessed about killing Sidonis, and I told you you weren't being yourself?"

"How could I forget?" he replied, lowering his head in turn. He took a step away from her and started gesturing with his hands. "You forced me to let him live, and I couldn't understand why you did that at the time."

"I knew what was it like not being quite yourself, Garrus," she replied in a soft voice. He looked at her deeply, frozen in his spot not far away from her. "I wasn't myself, I wasn't in control anymore. I just pretended I was," she paused and looked away. After a few seconds she continued, "That's why I killed that Eclipse mercenary, Elnora... remember her?"

"The one that had killed the volus, when we were searching for Samara's track?"

"But we didn't know she was guilty when I killed her," replied Shepard shaking her head. "I don't regret it, but in other circumstances I might have acted differently. If I had been myself. I just... lost my patience because I was upset. It was really hard, and I think I fully understood what was happening to me when I saw what happened to you..."

He closed the distance between them and grabbed the sides of her face with his three fingered hands. He held her head facing up, so she could look at him in the eyes as he was looking at her.

"Is that why you..." he started, in a hesitant tone, "suggested we skipped to the tiebreaker, when I told that story about me and a recon scout?"

She chuckled lightly. "Garrus, after all the things we did together, and you still can't say that I offered you to have sex?"

"Well, I suppose I could..." he replied, chuckling himself, but still not letting go the sides of her face.

"No," she stated, bluntly, her ocean blue eyes glaring with honesty. "It isn't why I said that thing about the tiebreaker. I think I was... joking is not exactly the word, though at the moment I thought I was. Thinking back, I wanted to corner you, because you kept talking of how successful you were with the ladies. Turned out you were right about that all along. You said the magic words: 'why the hell not?'. I was feeling lonely and on edge. Something about that incident with Sidonis told me you felt the same, even if we couldn't speak about it at the time." Shepard took Garrus' hands into hers. She shook her head, frustrated. "Damn, I never talk this much. All I wanted to say is that I'm on edge again, and I don't feel quite myself. I don't want to talk about it, I just need a drink. Perhaps even to dance a little, and I don't care how bad a dancer I am."

"I know the right place," said Garrus smiling. "They serve a fine turian brandy, or so a friend of mine told me. I just didn't find the time to go yet."

They walked in silence, towards the elevator that would take them to the cargo bay, and from there to the hangar where the Normandy was stationed. "Oh, and Melody?" he asked after a few steps, "about you being a bad dancer? I wouldn't have it any other way."

After a short trip in a cab, they reached their destination. The sun was setting, but when they entered the bar they could hear loud music and a lot of people talking to each other. The lights were dim, and shattered in many colors on the dance floor. It was a big place, probably as much as Purgatory in the Citadel, but it wasn't built in several levels.

As they walked to the main bar, they could see not only a lot of humans, but also many salarian, asari, turians and quarians. Shepard even spotted a batarian playing cards with two humans on a distant table. She sat on a stool and ordered the strongest drink they had. Garrus requested a turian brandy, and slowly sipped it as she swallowed her drink in one gulp.

"Hit me again," she requested the human bartender.

"Fine, Commander Shepard," replied the man, "but let me warn you that I'll tell you when you had enough."

"You know who I am?" she asked over the volume of the music.

"A face so beautiful for the savior of the galaxy?" said the bartender in turn. "How could I not know?" The man addressed Garrus, "You better take care of this woman."

"That's the plan," replied the turian.

The bartender poured her drink and walked away to serve other clients.

"I'm telling you, Garrus," said Melody, "that man better let me get drunk." She swallowed her second drink and placed the empty glass on the counter.

"I think you told me you wanted to dance?" the turian asked.

"Yeah, that too," she said nodding. She got up and walked a step towards the dance floor. "Coming?"

"Not this time," he said and took a small sip from his glass. "I'd rather watch the show."

"Sure, Vakarian, keep making your guns dance," she said chuckling, "because you obviously don't know how to do that with your feet."

She stepped away from him before he could reply. She walked straight to the dance floor, loving the sensation of a little – for her, anyway – booze in her blood, the bright lights, the loud music urging her to move among those strangers.

A very good looking asari started dancing next to her. For a moment she didn't say anything, but after a while, the alien approached her.

"Honey," the asari said in her ear, "the problem is that you don't let go. Feel the music, let it guide you."

The asari grabbed both her hands, and encouraged Shepard to make wider movements. At first she was reluctant, but slowly she relaxed and let the unknown alien guide her. She realized she was having fun! That was a lot to say, after all that had happened, after all she had to live through. She allowed herself to get lost in the music, in her movements, in the joy of being alive around her. For a moment, she wasn't Commander Shepard, a galactic savior. She wasn't a N7 operative and part of a team responsible from stopping Cerberus' threat. She wasn't a soldier with a dark, unspeakable secret about a vision she had during the last battle against giant machines. She was just a woman on a night out, having fun to the music in a crowded bar.

She didn't know how long the spell lasted. All she knew was that, at some point, she wanted to be near Garrus. Shepard thanked the asari and walked back to the spot where she had left him.

She found the turian sitting on the same stool, still nursing his drink. He was staring at a female turian across the bar, and didn't notice the Commander approaching.

"Want me to hold you mandible for you?" she asked him, smiling and sitting next to him again.

"Melody!" he said, startled. "I... I'm sorry..."

"She's gorgeous, I get that," Shepard replied. "I can tell from the way all the other turians are looking at her. I'd never ask you to go blind..."

"I'd never cheat on you," Garrus said in a firm tone, looking at her. "She might be gorgeous, but I'm with the best woman in the entire galaxy."

She approached him and said to his ear, "Garrus, I know you wouldn't cheat on me, I was just teasing you. As for me, I already told you I was ready to be a one turian kind of woman."

He grabbed her in his arms and kissed her, obviously not really caring that they were in a crowded bar and many people could see them. She didn't care either. Normally she wasn't into public displays of affection, but she had reached a point in which she didn't give a damn.

She didn't have problems convincing the bartender to serve her as many drinks as she wanted. After a while, and as the place was getting even more crowded, she decided that she had enough and was ready to go home. Vaguely she remembered that home now meant her ship, her Normandy, and she smiled. She felt dizzy, but fully trusted Garrus to take her back safely.

Shepard couldn't remember how she got to her cabin. She found herself on her bed, undressed, with her turian slowly taking his clothes next to her.

"Garrus?" she asked, her voice unsteady from the alcohol intake she indulged into that night.

"Yes, I'm right here," he replied looking at her.

"I love you," she said dragging the words. She tried to sit on the bed, and failed.

"I know, but you're drunk..." he started, and attempted to accommodate her on the bed.

"No, listen to me, Vakarian," she insisted. "Listen to me, because I love you, and you don't even know what it means."

"Huh?" he asked, confused. He had finished undressing and sat next to her on the bed they shared.

"I never loved... someone like this before," she said, struggling with each word, fighting the dragging in her voice and failing miserably. "I don't even know what to do with it. It scares me to death."

"You don't have to be scared, Melody," he said in a reassuring tone, leaning towards her. "I wouldn't leave you. I'll stay for as long as you want me to be with you."

"You don't understand, Vakarian!" she yelled, her drunken state being even more apparent. "I fear the way I feel. I don't know what to do with feelings so big! I'm a soldier!"

The next thing she could remember, she was waking up with one hell of a hangover. She sat on the bed and grabbed her head with both hands, but it did little to stop the pain she was feeling.

She noticed Garrus getting up, and moments later he put a glass of water in her hand. She drank it like there was no tomorrow.

A moment later she could open her eyes. She felt bad, but she was used to it. She noticed Garrus staring at her.

"Something wrong?" she asked, holding her head with one hand.

"I wonder how much you remember," he said, honestly.

"Oh, yes..." she said nodding slightly, "sorry about that."

"Is it true?" he insisted. "Are you scared of what you feel for me?"

"A little..." she admitted.

"Well, I'll tell you how to deal with that." He approached until his face was right in front of hers. "You accept it, and remember that I feel the same way about you. I don't care that we are of different species, or that we could die any minute because we're both soldiers. All I care about, is you."

"And you said you had no romantic skills to speak of?" she said chuckling. "Garrus, you really need to start knowing yourself."

She leaned her head on one of the plates of his chest, just content to hear him breathe.


End file.
